


Five Stages

by grimhillde



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alfred and Matthew are golden pups and you can't convince me otherwise, Alternate Universe - College/University, Arthur is a hot mess, Francis is a cheeky bastard and i adore him, Hetalia Countries Using Human Names, Human Nations | Countries (Hetalia), M/M, Slight enemies to lovers, i have no idea where this will go but i'm having fun, supportive friends, too much description
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:35:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28790340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimhillde/pseuds/grimhillde
Summary: Arthur Kirkland is a tired med student who is not really happy with his life but at least surviving.Will he also survive the pressure of falling for a frenchman, who studies engineering, and also is a cheeky bastard? We'll see Arthur reacting to his disaster.With some rochu and a little pinch of amepan. Might add more according to the flow of the story since it's not over yet.
Relationships: America/Japan (Hetalia), China/Russia (Hetalia), England/France (Hetalia)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22





	1. Realizing the Issue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work here, I'm sorry if I have mistakes in my writing since english is not my mother tongue. Enjoy Arthur being a hot mess!

Arthur Kirkland woke up from his tiring -at best- 3 hour long sleep into his dark room. He straighten up as if he was reviving from his grave with the singing voice of the woman from his alarm clock, which Arthur thought her voice sounded like as if someone was torturing her at that moment. He pushed his a little bit long bangs wildly from his eyes. However his bangs fell down to his eyes back, not taking the restriction they faced from their owner. Since Arthur still wasn't awake enough to recognise that, he just reached at his thick dark curtain and opened it with the hope of his room getting lightened for a bit. The lighting of the room almost didn't increased, and all he could do was sighing loudly. _C_ _ould anything evolve this bad day into a good one?_  
  
He dragged himself out of his warm-ish bed. After taking off his pyjamas his skinny body shivered. He walked infront of the mirror, watched himself. There were nothing except for small bumps that could be seen as working muscles remained on his body from the captainship of highschool football team 4 years ago, running behind a ball for hours and the tournaments around highschools which they used to pretend as they were playing in world cup. He runed his boney fingers over his tangled hair, deciding he could go without a shower today. After putting on his button up and slacks, taking day's first steps to look like a grandpa, he grabbed his watch from the top of the nightstand. "Quarter to nine." He blinked for couple of times without realising the importance of the situation. "Quarter to nine!" He clatched his shoes near his door while opening the same door, covered with posters and lacking a lock. After fitting his one foot to one of his shoes and pulling its heel to wear it compeletly, he throwed himself out of his room hopping on his other sock to not to fell down. "Bloody hell!"  
  
"Are you late again, _mon lapin?"_ Arthur raised his eyes from hardwood, which he used to stare in order to not fall, to the owner of the voice that made him vibrate. Young man's blonde hair were messy, falling through his shoulders. Every strand was shining like silvery. Maybe they really were covered in silvery. His eyes were kind of darkened due to the hangover from last night. Even so, every time Arthur ran over those eyes he could never contain himself from feeling like a pirate drifting away in a wooden ship on an immerse ocean by himself alone because he lost all of his crew to sirens. He had an aquiline nose, not as rough as in stereotypes but a noble one, cheeks kneaded carefully to fit its complexion and marvelous lips. A thin but masculinly built, pale neck. The oversized white shirt was only covering young man's left arm, allowing the right collarbone to draw attention from the open collar. Allowing it to draw too much attention.  
  
Arthur lowered his eyes. "I am not your lapin or anything, frog." When he finally wore his shoe, he tried not to think about the humiliating situation he was caught in by the beautiful man. He throwed the other pair at floor and bended, using his finger as a shoehorn. "You tell Ivan I'm out." After grabbing his backpack from where he throwed yesterday he headed for the door.

"Arthur-" Englishman turned back like an obedient servant when he heard his name coming out from holy lips. "Since you're there can you give me my jeans? There on the chair." Arthur didn't realize he was just staring to the Frenchman while his brain was analysing the request and being a rebel about fulfiling it. Beautiful man opened his mouth to talk as if he recognised Arthur's grumpy thoughts. "I don't want to come out of the room like this."

That was the exact moment when Arthur finally realized lower half of the man infront of him was behind the door all along. Only thing that was covering young Frenchman was _Arthur's flatmate's_ too oversized shirt. He gulped as for a moment his brain erased every secular thought he had; like the fact that he was late to class, how his classes were too heavy for him, the family reunion at the next weekend. _Oh my god, oh my god._ Arthur grabbed the jeans by the cuff and throwed to the room across. _Oh my god._  
  
" _Merci, mon petit chou._ "  
Arthur answered as he was closing the apartments door. "Stop calling me that too Francis. Have a nice day."

He was sure Frenchman was giggling after him but it didn't matter. As soon as the door he pulled towards closed, it tundered the empty echo-prone hallway with empty echo-prone body of Arthur. His feet were not walking, his lungs were not taking air. He hated _him_.  
If the watch on his wrist didn't catch his attention he probably wouldn't be able to get out of the coma he lapsed in but he was already so much late. All of happened was that pervert called Francis Bonnefoy's fault. He was the one making Arthur feel weird, he was the one covering his life. Arthur hated that _frog_.  
  
Arthur Kirkland had just compeletly woken up to a bad morning.  
  


* * *

  
Arthur didn't raised his head from his arms where he buried it even though one of his earbuds had been removed.  
"C'mon-aru!" said a familiar voice. Owner of the voice wasn't making any effort to hide his accent, on the contrary was pressing on it more. "Even 14 year old sad kids don't listen to this song anymore."

Arthur just wanted to get depressed by listening to The Smiths while thinking about his day that started badly on a picnic table in the university garden. His most valuable inheritance, his migrane, was about to come and visit him so the last thing he needed was his classmate messing with him.

"What do you want, Yao?" he murmured. Wang Yao sat across him at the picnic table and sighed deeply. From the sounds of short man rummaging his postman bag Arthur could tell he was looking for cigarettes. He raised his head little only to see his friend; watching him try to light a cigarette with his mouth, covering the lighters weak flame with his small hands. Just after taking a puff, Yao let the smoke float away between his teeth via smiling.

"Alfred had seen you more pale than normal today-aru. " Englishman pretended he didn't heard the sarcasm.  
"Kiku said he wouldn't stop talking, my brother was worried." Alfred was Arthur's annoying little cousin with a weird accent and too much volume who had born and raised in America. He had came to England this year to the same university with _his most beloved cousin_ , as if Englishman didn't had enough problems already. Arthur was sure this was a comeback for the sins he might commit in the future, it seemed as karma was working in reverse for him.

"Tell your little brother I am fine and his boyfriend is making a fuss again as always, i don't know." Arthur, whose voice cracked while saying the phrase "making a fuss", grabbed his phone and touched its screen for replaying the song.  
  
"Now if you excuse me-"  
"I heard Barginski was with that french guy from enginnering last night." Yao blurted out while he was putting out his cigarette using the grids above trash can near their table.  
  
Arthur didn't reacted to it. His two-year flatmate going on the loose was nothing new, he was able to do it and he would never miss a chance. That man never ever had had a real relationship as Arthur knew. Despite the not really hidden intimidating aura he hid behind his squishy cheeks he had a wide social circle.  
  
Yao bended his neck and locked his dark eyes to Arthur. For the time they stared at eachother it felt as the only voices audible were the whistle of the wind and base coming out of earbuds. Only after a weird silence between them, chinese man grabbed Arthur's hands in his shorter palms. He leaned over to Englishmen in a way as serious as his glances. "You and me, my friend, are both in some shitty situation."

Although either of them didn't say a word for a while, at the end couldn't contained the laughing instict blasted inside them due to the helplessness and tragedy of their situation. Arthur's earbuds fell on the table, Yao's low-ponytail loosened. When laughing had started to hurt them physically blond man tried to catch his breath, black haired man across him had been also trying to relax by squeezing his hands. Before even the smirks on their faces dissappear chinese man stood up, found one more cigarette in his bag and lighted it, and than wore his bag over his neck like a postman.

"We are in love with impossible people Arthur, but at least I don't have to see mine with someone else's shirt."

Arthur was taken aback with the accuracy of his friends sentence, the idea of short man hiding cameras inside his aparment slipped his mind for a moment. Then he had to take his time to analyze the whole sentence and by the required time for that Yao had already passed over the campus grass to the road leading to faculty buildings. Because of the fastened wind or the insult he recieved or another unknown reason Arthur felt his ears and cheeks warming up. He dashed to his friend who had headed for second one of the big old buildings, he grabbed the man's arm and turned him with an unclear power to himself. "I am not fallen for that frog Yao! Because that you talk jibberish you-" He calmed when man with the accent struggled to save his arm. "I'm sorry.-"

After grasping the cigarette between his lips with the thin fingers of his almost-plucked out hand, Yao tapped the filter twice with his thumb to spill the ash.  
"Stage one: denial."  
"What, now you are comparing me to someone dealing with grief?"  
"Let me have my fun Art, while you deal with what you afraided most. It's time to face it."  
  
All Arthur Kirkland could do was staring behind Wang Yao while he walked away. Rustle of leaves under his shoes with the fastened wind, talking of 4 other people in the garden, the weak howling of huge clock on the roof of the main bulding radiates every second; all of them started to turn into ashes like the cigarette between his friends fingers. Now there was only ringing of migrane in Arthur's head.

Arthur Kirkland realized he was in love with Francis Bonnefoy.


	2. Denial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really happy to see people are reading this. Thank you so much.

After that day and a tiring week the next thursday came along. Even though Arthur Kirkland was trying his best not to let the family dinner in 2 days haunt him, he couldn't keep himself from arguing everytime he opened his drawer about which tie would show him less of a standing joke. At least he had not encountered Francis Bonnefoy again after his friend's hilarious arguments. _Had he thought of him again?_ Well, yes but he was sure only reason for his mind to slip unnecesarry places were Yao's words and nothing more.  
  
Since he had just woke up, he rubbed his eyes as hard as he could. He hadn't got any classes that morning, he just had to drop by faculty to kiss his professors parts and be a modern slave for his own future but aside from that Arthur smiled with the tought of his free-day.  
  
After his arms got tired, they stopped and fell on his eyes without Arthur's consent, covering his eyes from any little sunlight that might disturb them. Those arms were doing exact opposite of their duty. Arthur knew he wanted to get out of the bed and enjoy his morning but he wasn't more energetic than his arms. He got conquered by his mind's blurriness, he thought of stuff but nothing formed and psychedelic imaginery swallowed him up.  
  
He found himself between wall-like colourful shapes and dalmatian dots, only object in the room was a rounded small door. Arthur thought it looked like a hobbit door. He walked towards the door, grabbed the brass doorknob and did the only thing he could do to a closed door. He opened it.  
  
Arthur stepped in the door finding himself in a church lightened by colorful beams gliding from tall stained-glasses. It was a wedding he fall into, now that little hobbit door putted him beginning of the isle, in front of everyone and vanished. Everyone were watching him, not with eyes because except from a few none of the guests had faces. Arthur seemed like he hadn't noticed this feature of people around, or maybe he just didn't cared, he was embarrased anyways. The wedding was complete except there were no groom, Arthur noticed priest staring at him directly. However he was still in his sleepwear, his old sweat pants and discoloured tee were not really suitable for marrying. He moved through the isle, hugging himself to be protected by breeze howling from stone walls. His naked feet made funny sounds on marble floor of the church. There was a bride waiting for him at the end of the isle. With the puffy skirt of the wedding gown and the pastel-coloured flower crown top of veil, Arthur likened the bride to Shakespeare's fairy queen, Titania.

Later three messy head just like his and a dissatisfied looking lady with beautiful curls caught his eye. She was his mom, staring at him jugmentally, except she was somehow young. Young as the photo she had taken with her friends at a pub 30 years ago. She had huge green eyes shining like a emerald, she had the reddest cheeks and she was definately the most beautiful woman Arthur had ever seen. She looked as she still hadn't grew 4 children by herself, still hadn't ruined her life by working too hard, still hadn't isolated herself from her enviroment especially her own yet to be born kids. Arthur felt his lungs getting twisted but he didn't stopped for his smirking brothers and unsatisfied mother. He couldn't, to be exact because his feet were moving through never-ending corridor even if he wanted or not.  
  
He turned to his bride, her blond golden hair were shining with the coloured light coming from stained-glasses as if made from real gold, softly resting on her shoulders. "Looks like a blessing _,_ " young man thought to himself. Under strapless upper part of the dress, bride's well-shaped but flat chest were heaving. Her body was gentle but lightly built resembling to ancient greek sculptures. Also... Arthur blinked in confusion couple of times. Was bride's chest a little bit too _hairy?_ He panicked with the little shock he had, tried to slow down his legs but he was already near the priest, facing his bride's veil. Now he could hear bride's fast breathing, he could see her carefully chipped collarbones emerging and dissappearing again with every breath from up close. Her fingers grabbing a bouquet of roses were rough shaped almost like a man but also, they were thin and fragile enough to make Arthur feel like dying every second he can't hold them. That's why britishman acted to reach them first but when his old and loosened sweatpants started to swipe down from his waist he had to adjust his clothes in shame instead. He stared at the veil, it wasn't hard for him to find where her eyes are supposed to be since groom and bride were at the same hight. Unfortunately lacy veil were doing an amazing job hiding its owners identity, only shaking a little without a regular pace with every breath. Arthur could understand that bride was laughing at him. He felt his face coloured with shyness, he pulled his shirt's ends. He just wanted to leave.

By the time seventy year old looking priest who Arthur never ever seen in his life before started to talk, words fell from his mouth with the voice of Arthur's cousin, Alfred. Arthur was sure he was going mad. "We are gathered here today to witness the joining of two lives. This is the marrige celebration of blah blah blah! C'mon now kiss your bride Arthur!"  
"What? There is no-"  
"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" Old priest raised his hands and led the hall with Alfred's piercing voice and annoying accent. While a hall full of people ordered Arthur to kiss, Arthur tried calming his little heart before it burst out of his ribs. With every new voice around, he felt his world spinning. His face, especially his cheeks and ears were burning. He lifted the veil with his hands shaking and he finally faced his bride. _Francis bloody Bonnefoy?_  
  
"Am I going to marry _you_? I'll be hanged!" he squirted out his voice cracked, he wanted to move back a couple of steps but his ankles were like bonded. His heart was surely breaking his ribs this time and he never had realized how incredible Francis looked with makeup on before.  
"Oh please, Arthur! We both now you want to kiss me more than anything." frenchman said with a voice feast to any human ear. He leaned to Arthur, Arthur now could had feel warm breath of his bride on his own lips. They both wrapped their arms around each other's waist, melted by the heat of the moment. Arthur put his hands on other man's cheeks before acting out for kissing the most beautiful lips ever created, closed his eyes.  
  
And he kissed.  
  
He kissed something disgusting, sticky, cold.  
  
His eyes opened in shock, met the frog he was holding.  
"Ribbit."

* * *

  
Arthur woke up screaming, broke up in cold sweat. He started mumbling with his dream's memory, wiping his mouth to his sleeves. "Gross!" He jumped out of his bed and left his room shaking his head in order to clean it as much as he can. He stumbled through the open kitchen -mixed with living room. "No, no, no, no, no" he laughed in some kind of mania. "No more 'four weddings and a funeral' for me. I'd never, ever marry someone like him!"  
  
It was just a little excitement he experienced, because he hadn't dated for a while. However he certainly did not needed this weird feelings, maybe he just needed some happiness. But he'd dead set prefer to increase his happiness by chocolate instead of running his fingers through Francis's hair, feeling Francis's head resting on his chest while watching films, inhaling the blossoming lavender scent flowering from Francis's skin with every touch. Even imagining these things were enough to give Arthur nausea. "I can't kiss that frog, not in a million years!"  
  
"I didn't know you were cheating on me with other frogs, Arthur." said a familiar voice from behind, either sounded like coming from heaven or hell. Arthur's hole body vibrated, just like everytime. He prayed that other man to be a delusion of his mind and turned.  
"Or," said ugly frog while smirking viciously "Did you have a dirty dream including me?"  
  
"As if!" Arthur answered with a theatrical laugh, trying to sound as cynic as he could. "No I just happen to see a... an ugly frog monster in my dream," he made up thinking he just found a legitimate argumate. "Not uglier than you, you have the first place always-" he added.  
  
Francis grinned and sipped his coffee. He did not belive but watching blond man trying to lie was fun.  
  
"Why are you here," asked Arthur at least, he pulled his falling sweat pants. "How did you get in anyways?" He coughed twice with the flustering moment. His mind visualized some undesirable possibilities. He frowned without realizing. "You stayed the night again?"  
  
"What's the matter, mon lapin. Or maybe you wouldn't like it? What if I spent the night not in the room across, but in yours instead?" Francis winked. He was aware he shouldn't tease a man who had just woke up, and probably depressed but damn, he was enjoying it very much.  
  
Arthur inhailed interruptedly to lose the burden climbing his throat from his lungs. "Of course not! Just, I rented this house with Ivan and you are just disturbing-" his voice had hoarsed and cracked a bit. That always happened whenever he made up an excuse. He was lucky -or was he really?- frenchman was unaware of this trait.  
Francis glanced away from englishman's eyes. He was just joking, there were no reason to get an answer this serious he thought.  
  
"Matthieu gave me the emergency keys you left for them. I've been instructed to drag you to tonight's party. He said something about you showing me your guitar skills." Matthew, Alfred's twin who is silent enough to not be noticed, even turns invisible sometimes. This year he came to England with his brother, he was studying biological engineering. Also, as Arthur just realized now, he was obviously aware of his brother's plan to make Arthur and Francis lovers. Alfred had mentioned this plan only once, on the phone giggling like a crazy person, and Arthur hated the idea ever since.  
  
Arthur opened the fridge and tucked some sliced cheese into his mouth. "How close are you to my cousin?"   
  
"I give him French lessons." Frenchman's attitude was colder than before but Arthur didn't notice. He rolled his eyes before ending his "breakfast" and close the fridge. "Sure, whatever. Tell those two golden pups I am not coming. I have to be my professor's slave today."  
  
"Party's at 9." Francis dropped the cup and approached to the man who was leaning on his shoulder against the fridge now. He lowered his eyes and felt the man's free left shoulder with his right hand. He was surprised to see his arms were rather rigid, slightly built. He burned with the instant desire of touching englishman's shoulder naked but it passed rapidly. "Maybe I might let you kiss me, if I get very drunk."  
  
Arthur did his best to act as beautiful man's hand was not cursing him with every movement on his body. He kept his calm despite the tense mood he was in. "Keep your filthy hands off me frog," he said with a challenging tone. He pushed the other man away from himself and reached for kettle, raising his voice he added: "I don't want to get sick."

* * *

  
Francis felt he was getting angry. He knew bickering was some kind of a ritual between them. He was also having fun from this little fights and this game between him and Arthur were not going to change any time soon. But sometimes, he got way too angry, he used sentences he would regret later. What annoyed him most was that he did not use these carelessly laid out sentences against anyone except the blond Englishman. Perhaps it was because of Arthur's old man clothes, perhaps it was his disgusting ego, perhaps it was his life Francis couldn't read like he did to anyone else's, hidden behind his green insulting gaze. When it came to that thick eyebrowed, short on looks guy, Francis couldn't contain himself.  
  
He was angry again, so he said something he wouldn't say under no circumstances.  
"You like me, Arthur! Admit it!"  
He had risen his voice too much, and this rage he couldn't conceal gave his rival strength. Taking the boiling water into the teapot to make tea, the Englishman replied without taking his eyes off his job.  
  
"I _can't_ like you, even if you were the last person left in the whole world."  
  
Francis approached him, here again they were standing as if they were going to kiss. Arthur wondered how many more times he had to be exposed to this mind blowing position.  
"I bet I can make you confess within a month."  
  
Arthur swallowed to remain calm, while staring at the red cheeks painted with anger and the ocean blue eyes, which a storm was breaking at that right moment. He could sense the lavender perfume of the beautiful man leaning over to himself. He clung to the kitchen marble and retreated to create some space between them. He pretended to pay his attention on teapot instead. But he wasn't going to give up that fast just because he was amazed by how his foe looked. He felt his stubborness taking over his body starting from his feet. "Since you cannot make me confess anything nonexistent, I already won."  
  
Francis was utterly disturbed by the mocking tone of the man infront of him, and felt a sprain in his heart he didn't know why. He looked at the blond man who turned back to him. His bangs were little grown, covering his green eyes periodically. When looked carefully, Francis figured he could distinguish every shade of green in those eyes, unable to help himself from priceless eyes with tiny emerald pieces hidden inside. He wanted them for himself, he just wanted them to look at only him. What about the owner of this treasure though? It was _that_ guy, those eyes were going to waste in care of that man. "What for?" said brit, as if he was delibaretly disturbing Francis's thoughts.  
"You'll do whatever I want, vice versa."  
  
"Fine." Said stubborn englishman.  
"Fine." Said angry frenchman.  
  
While he grabbed his lether jacket from bustier, Francis added. "Matthieu's going to publish your childhood photos if you don't come tonight-"  
  
"Damn it." squirted out Arthur. Tea had splattered over his hand, he put his hand under the sink, started soaking it with cold water. By this time the intruder pulled the door of the flat and left the stage.  
  
Arthur was going to win the bet he just made because unlike his killjoy classmate, his scabby cousins or his rival, he was sure. But then why was his blood sugar always dropped whenever he saw Francis? Why he was dying to know how Francis's fingers would feel on his neck? Why he was remembering about Francis whenever he listened to any Beatles song? Because he was confused, because he was exposed to this creature called Francis too much, that must be it. Arthur tried to convince himself, denied the possibility of liking. There were certainly something else, it was just he couldn't figured that out yet. He took a deep breath to relieve his body shaking with adrenaline. Pulled his hand pinker than usual, from under the water.  
  
Arthur Kirkland denied he had already fallen for Francis Bonnefoy to himself, and to others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like my tea with extra rivallary and unfigured sexual tension thank you.  
> Also, yes i used the term "emerald" for Arthur's eyes, am i also a part of the cult now?  
> Stay safe and drink water.


	3. Anger -Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this chapter came out kinda long I'll be seperating it into two, sorry for the inconvenience. 
> 
> I am also aware this is a late update. Thanks for stucking with me and reading!

Arthur Kirkland was standing in the garden of the house where his cousins and their german friends were staying. He had no idea how they managed to get a deatached house as students. He was listening to the humming voice rising from the house, the young people had not yet been drunk enough to overflow the house, but those who slouch could be distinguished. He took the electric guitar bag on his back to in front of him and wrapped his arms around the guitar. He was actually using the guitar, which he hugged to protect at all costs, to encourage himself, like a child who uses his teddy bear before falling into sleep.

He was shaken by the blow to his back, his flatmate's hard hand was as cold as ever. Arthur thought that it would take Ivan longer to park his little Fiat, at least the time would be enough for him to gather his courage. He was wrong. When the tall man smiled, his cheeks covered his big eyes.  
"Let's." he said in a creepy tone, and dragged Arthur in as he grabbed his arm, like a feather in the wind.  
  
"Arthur!" a familiar voice said, the English man was displeased to hear his name so quickly in the sudden flood of people he was caught in. His face grimaced. He looked at the chinese man who called for him, instead of the green parka and worn jeans he usually wore, tonight he had preferred perhaps a bit ethnic, black, dragon print shirt and a black baggy trouser. His hair, which could be considered long, was gathered behind him as it was in all costs. "Yao! Hey!"  
  
"Hey-" Yao's voice dropped when he saw Arthur's companion, leaving no trace of how he was just before. Arthur enjoyed his friend's sudden change from a snake which is ready to mess with him into a puppy. "Barginski, it's been a long time."

"Da" said young man, there were something wrong with his looks, his smile wasn't suffocating but more timid now. He rearranged the t-shirt tucked in his cargo pants and he tied his jumper, which he never tooks off generally, around his waist. "I brought vodka!" he didn't hide the enthusiasm in his voice while he was showing his bag. Later he run his thick and huge hands through his blond enough to be called white hair. Why was rascal Ivan acting like a high schooler? The annoying smirk that on Yao's face usually had no trace of it. Where had this seriousness came from? Arthur knew his friend liked the russian man but the tension was something way different. Arthur would have done everything to escape from the situation but instead he said "You've met! When Yao comes to study to us—" as if he wanted to tense things even more and deliberately ruin everything for everyone. His bony thin fingers gripped the black guitar case more tightly, he definitely needed a drink.

Either he was very lucky or he didn't have the luck, but in less than a minute the host appeared with his too loud laugh, greeted the chinese man, performed a strange ritual of handshake with the russian man, which seemed sincere but apparently was not sincere. When he caught Ivan's vodka bag from its open zip and his cousin on his nervous shoulder and pulled it into the empty space that was opened with great effort in the middle of the hall among a few people, he burst out with a laugh. "I didn't think you'd come, Arthur."  
"I curse the moment I come, don't worry."  
  
"You owe me ten, Alfie." said a calmer voice. Arthur was about to around for the source of the sound, which was apparent despite the noise in the house, when he noticed the other twin who was in front of him. He took the acidic liquid that was extended to him.  
"Great party, Matthew. It's a little…" He gave the boy time to look around. "Crowded."  
"After this hour, I can do nothing but pray." said the blond man, bended a little as his brother's arm landed on his shoulder. His blonde hair had grown a little, and they hit his cheeks with every movement of his head. He was wearing a universe print T-shirt worn by indie kids and a strech capri just below his knee, with eyeliner under his eyes that made him look serious. Probably wore it himself. His more dominant twin, Alfred, was wearing a black denim shorts with a chain accessory. He was no different from a little boy with his American t-shirt and gelled hair. A handsome 19-year-old boy with alcohol.  
"I invite you both to have fun." He took a break, to probably think a better sentence. "No, I command you to have fun!"  
"Still, Arthur's here, so I won."  
"Fine! I'll pay!"  
  
Alfred pulled the guitar from Athur's hand and brutally opened it's case. Arthur felt like screaming.  
"Would you be nice to my girl, Alfred!" Arthur was about to lunge at to stop his cousin's stupid smile and take control of the jag, but the light smack he felt on his butt caused his world to reset for a moment. It was a party, probably someone's hand was accidentally hit, but over a few days of stress, Arthur turned with a fury. As he tried to relieve his already tightened nerves in his victim, he was left with his furious eyes and his really red face.  
"Sorry, couldn't resist." Francis Bonnefoy said, biting his lower lip. "But you should definitely wear more skinny."  
  
Arthur wanted to die. How could he have known that the "punk is not dead" shirt he last wore when he was 16, would be his coffinwear in six years. Now he is staring at Arthur with cheeks slightly pinker from canned beer and cheap wine. His lips are redder than usual, maybe he wore lipstick. Lipstick? How good makeup would suit him. Arthur felt he remembered this thought somewhere. Yet the mascara on eyes of the beautiful man and a few braids between silver curls within the dim light distracted Arthur from every feeling and thought he could think of. "Go to hell, frog!"  
  
As the beautiful man turned the glowing liquid in the glass in his left hand, he ran his right hand on Arthur's guitar, now attached to the amp. "I didn't know you could play."  
"I'm not that good." Arthur said, hoping that his cracked voice was not apparent in the noise.  
"He is that good." Matthew said, suddenly he was visible again. He tapped his index and middle fingers on the strings and corrected the chord of the bass.

"When we were little, Arthur used to stay at our house in the summer, we even had a group." Arthur waited for Alfred to jump into the conversation and tell every embarrasing memory, but he was relieved a little when he saw that his cousin was flirting with a more petite man at the back of the sofa. Alfred seemed calmer than ever, ruffling the black short hair of the japanese man with his relatively wide hands. Arthur looked at his own hands, imagining them running through his soulmates's hair. But when the familiar blond curls appeared before his eyes, he panicked. He immediately dropped onto the amp, took his white blue guitar and started pulling the strings pretending he knew what he was doing. Maybe if he lingered, he could erase stupid thoughts from his mind. He forced himself to think of something else, sadly, all that came to his mind in this situation were the embarrassing memories he was afraid Alfred would tell. Or now Matthew.   
  
"Yeah, we had a few gigs in my aunt's garage. Bore." Arthur smiled as he looked down at the floor picking up his guitar, he seemed to Francis as someone who knew his business while he was adjusting it. His green eyes, misting with the memory of the past, reminded of a dark forest. Francis would almost think somehow the englishman looked "attractive", but he was still sane.

"Any fun adventures?" he asked as he sit on the stool next to amp. His gathered knees touched Arthur's spread long legs.  
"Nothing happened." said Arthur without taking his eyes off his guitar.  
"Come on, Arthur! Tell me!" Francis put down his drink. He caught the englishman's bare shoulder with both hands. "Please with a cherry on the top?"  
During his pampering, he noticed that the naked stiff shoulders he had felt from under the shirt before were full of grit that felt awkward. Chicken skin? An extremely Arthur feature.

"We were like 12 so Arthur was around 15, we found things that sparked fireworks for our stage performance." Matthew said as he was done with his bass. The englishman punched his cousin's leg from where he was sitting.  
"Nobody wants to listen, shut up."  
But Francis was excited, he had no intention of missing his chance to make fun of Arthur.  
"No no, Matthieu, please go ahead."  
"It's not such a big story," the young man, visibly amused, continued.  
"When we burned the wicks and a few people gathered, our neighbor came to stop us. Arthur probably liked the girl. He thought he could impress her with his guitar skills."  
Arthur now hide his face in the palms of his hands. "What was his name? Liv?" Matthew asked, his voice trembled from holding his laughter. The englishman muttered as his palms choked his voice. "Liz. Elizabeth."  
"Ah! Sure!" Matthew said, as if he had just remembered. "You told him you'd be her Darcy! Like in Pride and Prejudice."  
"Mon dieu!"  
  
"Shut up!" Arthur continued to protect his face with one hand as he pinched his cousin's leg with the other. Even though Matthew shouted in pain, he was still smiling mercilessly. He took a few steps back to save himself.  
  
"Then the girl pushed Arthur." said Matthew as he patted his leg. "Then Arthur fell on the fireworks thingy and his pants were on fire." Arthur suddenly stood up and the C chord filled the house. For a very short time the attention of the whole house drawn to them. Arthur looked around with his blood-filled ears, but he could not look into Francis' eyes. The sound of the guitar awakened the other brother, who was lingering with his lover, now headed to his drum. "Are we getting started!" As he points to the microphone, he screamed like a war cry. Were they starting? But Arthur hadn't been on his nerves yet. He would answer, but he was caught by the fingers on his chin. Francis had now put his hand on his face, their eyes locked. His cheeks were a little more pink from laughing, and the dimple that Arthur had not noticed before had appeared. "How could you be more embarrassing, mon lapin," said the frenchman's beautiful lips. The shiny liquid from his glass was on them. "Good luck!" Arthur felt like his every cell would explode. He grabbed the microphone and vomited out this fullness inside. "1, 2, 3, 4!"  
  


* * *

  
Francis Bonnefoy, thought Arthur Kirkland who came across from everywhere in life, was an asocial megalomaniac and had nothing to make him special, for their first a few encounters. He confessed to himself that he was wrong just now when he was watching the englishman sing a rock song that Francis only knew the chorus of. His voice was calmer and higher than usual when singing. His eyes opened and closed in rhythm, his gestures changed as sweat dripped from his cheeks. His right hand struck the guitar steadily and his left hand was slightly shifting. It was full of life. Like a bird that had not gotten out of its cage in a long time, he stretched his wings, raised his feathers a little more with each chord, and became more beautiful as he became free.  
  
Francis had met many people in his short life, had romantic relationships, got heartbroken too much, and so broke the hearts of others too but he had never felt that way about someone before. He tried to calm his beating heart like a small child, pressing his hand to his chest. With the end of the song, he shot his drink which he did not know what number glass it was. A few clapping sounds and swearing rised from around. Now the English man was smiling at his bandmates, his lips were slightly curled. They talked something between them, he didn't like it, obviously, so he frowned and said something in return. Then he turned to Francis, looking at him like he had never before. Or maybe Francis assigned too much meaning, after all mixing of adrenaline and alcohol in the blood couldn't add up to anything good. Yet when he met eyes that look as they are pleading softly, he neither could look away nor could say anything. By the time he got himself together, it seemed like Arthur argued a little, and apparently accepted something he didn't want. Francis held his breath.  
  
"Well…" muttered Arthur leaned over into the microphone, "we're going to play something a little slower, so everyone better hug their partner, whatever." In the first ten seconds of the song, Arthur probably never took his eyes off the classical guitar he borrowed from Alfred. The organ, who entered after a few seconds of the song, was too unnoticeable. Francis couldn't care about it right now. Because Arthur was doing the most clichéd thing ever. He was looking into Francis' eyes in a crowded field and singing "la vie en rose" in french.  
  


* * *

  
He first only had a beer, got a little angry, maybe nervous, and then he just had fun doing something he hadn't done in a long time and thought about nothing. Was that many chemicals were really effective enough to have him serenade to someone while possibly mispronouncing the lyrics?  
Could he ever lowered himself more? The time he played Alice -his guitar- felt as he was in a dream sequence to Arthur, offering him a place where he could scream without thinking after a long time. His blood felt like it was boiling, his body was small for him, he felt truly alive again after a long time. Yet he could not ignore the man in front of him, his eyes glowing with huge pupils in an expression he had never seen before. Why was the frenchman looking at Arthur that way? He looked happy, he looked happy because of Arthur. It was this feeling, the feeling of really making Francis happy, that felt more relaxing and exciting to Arthur than the music or anything he had experienced. With those eyes staring to his without hesitation, Arthur couldn't avoid smiling, but at least he managed to lower his eyes. For some courage, he finished his drink on the floor.  
  
“Let's play something slow too-” said Alfred. "What?" Arthur thought he had heard wrong due to the noise.  
"Something slow." The american boy, without hiding at all, was now looking to his left, watching Kiku, Yao's brother, who clapped earnestly.  
"I am not playing hey there delilah." Matthew opposed. "We're at a party, Alfred-" Arthur said.  
"Then we can dance!" Alfred looked at his brother pleadingly. Matthew freed his neck from the guitar strap and lifted the organ lying on the ground having no other choice.  
"There are a lot of couples at the party, I think it'll be fine. Also, Arthur, you can dance with your new fan." he said as he took his place back and laid the organ down.  
"What fan?" Alfred pointed with his head to the frenchman standing ahead. Arthur turned around in a moment's emptiness and met the person pointed out. He was slightly sweaty and his white shirt was stuck to his body revealing his skin colour a bit. If the aphrodite was real they both would have been cursed at the very moment. Francis would be cursed for his beauty, and Arthur for getting more and more addicted to this beauty. He turned back to his cousins in embarrassment, but his already red cheeks didn't give him away. "Cut the crap!"  
"Come on, Arthur!" Matthew said from his seat.  
"Do it for me at least, a moment with Kiku, I won't ask for anything ever again!" finished his twin. Arthur had neither the energy nor the motivation to resist.  
"Fine." he just said forgetting the fact that only slow song he fully knew was la vie en rose, which he learned for his girlfriend who broke his heart in high school. He didn't know the English words either. Damn it.  
  
Although Arthur couldn't raise his eyes when he started playing, he felt that he had to straighten his head after starting the words. Francis was in front of him again, he has a less enchanted but warmer look in his blue eyes, this time looking like shiny medallions. Arthur continued the song, unable to detach himself from the eyes he found courage, his fingers moved by themselves, in such a way that he could not even notice a wrong note. As much as Francis had grinned insultingly to the song at the beginning, he was now repeating the lyrics with an almost sincere smile. It felt as they were singing to each other, and as if there weren't any crowded party with young people. With the ending song, Arthur would step forward and approach the man he had formed the kind of connection he could never have imagined. When the words were completed, he was already beyond the microphone. He could had reach him in a few steps, since the area between them seemed like isolated by pink winds to Arthur. He took the guitar out of his lap and used it as a support.

"You couldn't have been more of a loser." said beautiful man.

"You liked it though." said Arthur shrugging. He was doing his best to look careless, it was now usual to try hard to hide his gestures in front of Francis, which he normally covered without difficulty. But there were things to fail this effort. The pink wind around them quickened as Arthur suffocated at his reply. Nobody was left in the room but him and the beautiful man in his eyes.

"Yeah." Francis had said. "It wasn't that bad."  
  
Then suddenly, two men, one german and one spanish, entered through the figurative wall. The german albino man was the elder of the other two siblings who stayed at home, although he had lived in England since middle school, he kept his German accent. He was shouting and laughing, which was enough for Arthur to get disturbed by him. The spanish boy was named Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, he was the captain of the always-first team in high school football tournaments that Arthur's team never beat. Arthur felt as his slightly broken high school captain's honor was flaming in him. The Spanish man was smiling comfortably, smiling unceasingly. When he was younger, he looked more serious, maybe scary to Arthur, but it was clear that he had taken all of his teenage ambitions out of him.

These two men both hugged the frenchman and then tried to pull him to crowd with them as if Arthur wasn't there. Arthur placed his hand on Francis's shoulder, slightly pissed off by the interruption of the conversation. "Hello guys, but we were talking with your friend, so if you let us continue-"

"Relax, Arthur Kirkland!" interrupted the spanish man. His eyes slightly darker than Arthur's showed that he was enjoying his time. "You two know each other?" Francis said as he pushed his german friend's hand out of his hair that was beginning to spoil.  
"Antonio Carriedo and I played football in high school." Antonio nodded and tapped Arthur on the shoulder. "It's been a long time!"  
  
The other friend made a noise that made it clear that he had noticed something.  
"You are Alfred and Matthew's cousin!" he said, opening his eyes wide. Then he finished his beer. Arthur held out his hand. "Arthur Kirkland, you must be Gilbert Beilschmidt."  
"Ja." Gilbert said, shaking Arthur's hand. Then he turned to Francis with his short attention span. "I have to show you something!" he said and pulled the man behind him into the crowd. Francis turned his head as he was dragged by his friend and squinted his eyes as if to apologize to Arthur. Before Antonio disappeared after his friends, he sweetly waved. Arthur, on the other hand, collapsed on his knees to ground to stop his head turning from the fast moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can we discuss how France would behave if he was in love because that's pretty amusing to me lol.  
> Also yes I very enjoy cringy old stories.


	4. Anger -Part 2

"I can't believe you like him." Gilbert said as he sighed.   
"You're insulting me, mon ami." Francis replied unseriously to Gilbert's words which he thought was a joke.   
“Actually, he's handsome,” Toni opposed. "Totally not like how you described him before."  
Francis was about to argue but get confused with the statement. Gilbert explained "Izn't he the 'annoying ugly roommate' of your friend?" He made a gesture with his hands while he said the describing of englishman. Francis turned his looks away, thinking he should stop texting everything he go throught to his friends.

"Oh!" Added Toni before making an annoying nasty face "He obviously likes you."   
"Isn't he! He definitely likes me! And I'll make him confess that!" Francis was smiling like a playful child, with his fists raised.   
"Why?" Gilbert said as he opened one of the beers placed on the sloppy tables they had reached that served as a bar. With Antonio's head shook showing he confirms his friend's question, Francis felt the unfair pressure placed on him by his friends. "I like messing with him that's why."   
  
Gilbert grinned unconvinced. "Prove it."   
Frustrated by the embarrassing expressions of both of his friends, Francis ignored the challenge of the albino man and took off one of his crushed cigarettes from his pocket. Without asking or warning, he put his hand into Toni's pocket and took his lighter. Toni was watching a girl on the side chatting with her friends, he ignored his friend entering his private space. Then he pushed Francis by the arm as he tried to light his shapeless cigarette.  
“That girl,” said the spanish man, ignoring Francis's displeased gaze since he nearly burned his hand. "Have a chat with her." 

"Why should I?" Francis said, watching the girl. Her long hair was ombre, her body was beautiful, and maybe they could even stay friends after a dinner and a night drive on the beach together. Still Francis wasn't really into the idea of meeting someone new, generally he loved interacting but not tonight.

"Why should you, you ask?" said Toni in a shocked tone. Gilbert had covered his mouth with his hand, exagerrating his gasping as much as possible just like always. "You are a man of love, you never needed a reason to make a lady have a good time."

"Yes, true." Francis said as he was trying to gather himself. He hit his face lightly with his free hand to wake himself up. It must have been because of his tiredness. That englishman he had spent time with not once but twice today was someone very mentally tiresome. Now he would only visit the beautiful lady without thinking and offer to have a good time. Even though he made his mind his friend didn't have the intention to stop messing with him.  
"He likes a rude englishman with thick eyebrows." he singed in a not too silent tone. Francis flipped him off as he was putting off his cigarette by throwing it into the drink can he almost halfed. "Just watch me do my magic, Gilbert." he said confidently. All he needed was a little chat to recharge. A little chat with anyone else than Arthur Kirkland. Looking at eyes different than the one's that seem to have been pulled out of the green emerald mine that carefully. Francis approached the beautiful girl's group of friends and, without any difficulty, took the girl for a tour in the garden.   
  


* * *

  
"Arthur! Are you okay?" said the twins holding him from both arms. They picked him up from the ground. "Where is Francis?" Alfred said without thinking, Matthew impailed him with his elbow.   
"Sorry, I thought a moment would happen." Arthur remained silent, embarrassed by all the disgusting thoughts he had run through his head and his perverted feelings about the frenchman. _Pink wall? La vie en rose? So what, was he in love?_ If anyone could see him behaving like that to a frog, his pride would be two pennies. He had to gather himself.  
"I would never like him if there was death at the end." he murmured quitely. His cousins still holding him from arms couldn't find any reason for this sudden seriousness.

"Do you wanna throw up?" asked Alfred. Arthur pulled his arms and gathered his balance. "I'm fine boys." he said calmly. He was mad, but to himself only. "I'm going to have a drink. My mouth is dry." he explained even if his words couldn't be heared due to the loudness. While searching for the kitchen somewhat unconsciously around, he saw his classmate Yao from behind and wanted to go to him, but when he noticed the person he was talking to, he decided that it might be better to wait for the conversation to end rather than interrupt.   
  
Yao Wang had spoken with the young man, whom he spent almost the entire party chatting, about things he wouldn't normally have said a few minutes earlier. To summarize briefly, he spoke of the fear of being alone that has troubled him lately, and no matter how embarrassing he talked, Ivan Barginski nodded at his every no sense making sentence and commented shortly instead of walking away. Yao, who found a little courage from this, wrapped his more gentle fingers in the big hands of the Russian man, again in a way that he would never normally do, rising above his toes without saying anything, bringing his face closer to Ivan's face, who -to highlight- did not pulled his hand from Yao's before.

Ivan abruptly withdrew himself, trying not to push the shorter man away. His ice-blue eyes were wide open with surprise. Yao seperated their hands as he panicked to get out of the air he created between them, and now he is cursing himself. _How could I be so stupid-aru?_   
  
"Sorry," said the Chinese man, not knowing where to put his hands. "I thought-"  
"It's cool." said Ivan, while Yao was unable to notice the unusual frustration in Ivan's state, the russian man had to turn his head and breathe. "Only, such a relationship like that with you seems impossible."   
"What's that supposed to mean-aru?" Yao asked, escaping from his panic just before, narrowing his dark eyes, trying to suppress any kind of sad feeling.   
"A romantic relationship with you is impossible. My feelings for you are not like what I feel to people I have a relationship with."   
"How are they?" Yao asked, his hands on his hips.   
"I am not sure." Yao could hear him pressing on some sounds because of his accent. It was cute. Ivan was like a little boy, with a slightly pinked cheeks and an agitated tone.  
"I don't want to spoil this by kissing you-" A boy who had completely forgotten about the past.   
"Barginski, you've already kissed me!" said Yao in insulting words. "At the concert!" he added angrily. The fact that he was so forgettable for the blunt man in front of what was dear to him left the feeling of being stabbed in the back, he had no choice but to be angry. He didn't spend a single effort to condemn his anger either.   
"What? That was you?" said the russian man, straining the chinese man's patience. Yao's angry expression was now very slightly disappointed.   
  
For the first time, Ivan saw an expression on the short man's face other than his normal energetic and careless expression, even though he felt something crushed inside him, he could only say "I didn't mean that" to the man with his eyes fixed on the ground who was now smiling. Yao grinned and stretched, looked around; he noticed his classmate watching, the melancholic englishman. When he returned to Ivan, he was looking as if nothing had happened, with his usual stable expression, his eyes locked in the eyes of the russian man.   
"It's okay-aru. I gotta go, see you, Barginski." he said, walking quickly to his friend.   
  


* * *

  
"You should have kept talking." said Arthur, thinking that his friend had just interrupted his conversation for himself.   
"Bù shì, the conversation was over anyway." Yao said. He took a deep breath, then put his hand on Arthur's shoulder.   
"You play nice, by the way." Arthur pretended not to hear the Chinese man's compliment and turned his head back to make eye contact with his flatmate who was watching them. "Is he okay?"   
Yao pulled his a little bit taller friend by his shoulder and walked him in the crowd of people. "Let's have a drink-aru."   
  
Arthur really had fun chatting for two, two and a half hours with the guy he wouldn't normally call close, actually just an annoying classmate. Maybe his life would have been a lot easier if he allowed himself to make friends. "He forgot! He just forgot-aru! How can he forget after all!" Yao nudged Arthur.

"It was all part of the bet." Arthur said, without rising his head from the table, table was blocking the voice a little and making it sound like humming. The chinese man took another sip from his glass somewhat reckless. "What?"

"All those smiles, that looks he gave, that pink wind wall." Arthur, with his gradually rising voice, looked up at the short man in a somewhat eerie way. Yao corrected his posture a bit with the threatening aura he faced. "I do not understand-aru." 

"He played with me like a toy! But now I can see!" said Arthur more angry now. A little bit of alcohol dissolved in his blood, a little bit of insomnia, and a little bit of unnecessary flare-up anger had now standed him up. "But I know what to do."  
"What's you supposed to do?" said Yao, relaxed again, leaning on the table.   
"I'll give him what he wants!" Arthur said, banging his boots on the ground, even though he once slammed to the door and hurt his arm he walked into the middle of the room.   
  
The house was emptier than before and there were no one left but a few people who were napping in the corner. Arthur stump his boots to the ground again and went out into the garden, while Matthew who was trying to tidy up the hall saw him and followed after him like a mother, trying to protect his child. But before Arthur had time to notice his cousin, he was already out in the garden. After looking around for a little while, he caught his eye on Francis, who was sitting on the grass with a pretty girl with whom he openly flirted. Arthur walked towards them, getting more steamed up every second, and grinned with the little happiness of the probability of disturbing him by frightening away the girl next to him. Not letting the frenchman say his name, Arthur grabbed him by the collar, held him up and pulled him to himself.   
  
"Mon lapin, what's going on?" Francis said, with a little surprise then grimacing. "You smell, Arthur!" He saw the englishman's eyes staring at him in disgust. It might not be the first, but he thought he had never felt such a negative emotion from him before. Could Arthur be jealous? Maybe he was jealous when he saw the girl next to him, yes that must be it. Francis smiled with some filling of self-confidence, but before he could open his mouth, Arthur grit his teeth and took the floor.

"Did you want to win the bet this much?" _What bet? Ah, that bet._ Francis decided to continue the game. With the comfort of the fact that everything he felt about englishman today could be a product of the bet, he put his own hands on the ones that caught him by the collar. "What happened?" he whispered. "Did I win or not?" But this mundane tease of the frenchman had now fueled Arthur even more. Not wanting those particular eyes to look at himself _that_ way, Francis felt anxiety begin to take over.

He watched Arthur close to his burning green eyes and take a deep breath. Then he was simply pulled and kissed by the englishman who was stronger than he seemed. Arthur's slightly chapped lips were pricking in his own, yet he couldn't say he didn't like it. He did not understand what the englishman was trying to do, but he was sure would not be defeated. As the simple kiss slowly turned into something more than french, he closed his eyes and wrapped his hands around the englishman's waist. He felt Arthur's tongue dance skillfully in his own, a little more impressed by the mastery he did not expect. Maybe he was really falling in love with Arthur, this extremely repulsive person, as in his friends' jokes. His eyes gently opened with his borderline breath, and saw Arthur glaring at him with a still-unfaded anger. He was going to act up to break up with the man who started to frighten him a little, but Arthur had taken action way before that. With the pain he felt on his lower lip, Francis pushed Arthur away, putting his hand to his lips and checking whether he was bleeding or not, as he looked in horror at the man who now had a completely different impression than a few seconds before. "You really bit me!" he said in shock. "What is your problem?"  
  
"Why me?" cried Arthur. "Why must I be the one who likes you?"

No matter how much Francis wanted to escape or defend himself, he couldn't move a muscle. The eyes of the englishman were shining with tears that began to fill, and the light coming out from the house fell on his pink cheeks and on his even pinker lips. Turning from the previous monster into a somewhat fragile gentleman, Arthur's voice completed his sentence colder than ever before. "This must be nothing more painful than the torment you inflicted on me by playing with my feelings for a bloody bet, Francis. We are even now."   
  
The beautiful girl next to him was already gone and even if the poor girl said anything to Francis, he hadn't heard, he felt kind of bad but he couldn't denied the fact that it wasn't his priority right now. Matthew was watching them with questioning eyes from behind Arthur. Francis wanted to say something, but Arthur had already turned around and reached the garden door. Although he ran after him and grabbed his arm, Arthur pulled it to free himself and continued on his way. "I didn't pretend." Francis wanted to say but he said "You are being childish." instead.

"Well, the bet's still going on," murmured Arthur without turning back. "I don't like you, more than ever."

Whenever they had a interaction, it was in the form of offensive ridicule with each other. Yet Francis really managed to hurt the man with messy hair and apperantly actually delicate feelings.

* * *

  
As everything he did a few minutes ago in the house he left behind began to haunt him, Arthur pressed his hands to his freshly aching eyes. Could he be a bigger disgrace? There was no single logical explanation for the nonsense he did. He had caused harm on someone that even a goddess would envy. He ridiculed and humiliated himself in front of his cousin and some drunken young adults in the garden. Moreover, there was no need to be a genius to know that Francis would not even look at his face after all that. "I don't like you?" he repeated himself. _Lies._ Even the fact that he cared about the beautiful man at the moment was driving himself crazy. Arthur shivered with headache and his anger at himself as he tried to reach his apartment with his slacked emotions. He had ruined everything.   
  
Both Arthur Kirkland and Francis Bonnefoy somehow ruined their night, and after, they both asked their fate furiously the question: why me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awkward situations go brrrr-
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
